Tea Shop Tête-À-Tête
by Beanka Juarez
Summary: Hermione meets a flirty Draco Malfoy at the only free table—and likes what she finds. You know, nothing surprising for a Saturday morning. Dialogue-based one-shot, EWE, DHr


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. It belongs to Jo, yo.**

Reviews are always welcome, but I don't wanna talk about that. I'll just let you get into it! Reading _is_ what you came here for, isn't it?

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><p>"Here's your order Ma'am."<p>

"Thank you," Hermione replied and took her tea from the barista as she looked for a sensible place to sit. She had woken up terribly early that morning and had decided to treat herself—for once—to tea not made by her own kettle.

She wandered about the cramped shop in search of a quiet corner, but to her chagrin, she found none. The only table that wasn't jam-packed with either university students or snogging couples was the one next to the ice machine. Only one person inhabited the table, a man with strikingly blonde hair who was hunched over a newspaper, skimming avidly. And as much as she hated to interrupt his reading, it was the only seat left.

Steeling herself, she took seven confident steps exactly and tapped on his shoulder lightly. The man turned up his eyes to meet hers, and she was instantly met with silver eyes and an angled face—one that she would recognise anywhere.

"Malfoy?" She asked, flabbergasted.

To her great astonishment, the man smiled. "Granger! What a bolt from the blue we have here!"

Slightly unnerved by his jocose attitude, she took a half step backwards. "I'm surprised to see you here." She replied and looked warily around the café, amazed that none of the other wizards had noticed that famed ex-Death-Eater-Turned-Spy Draco Malfoy was sitting comfortably in their midst.

"Well, I like it here," the blonde shrugged coolly and reached his foot out underneath the table. In one blasé kick, the chair across from him slid out across the linoleum tile and bumped into Hermione's leg.

She tilted her head slightly, and he chuckled. "Are you gonna sit or not?"

"You know what? I might."

"Good."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You seem different Malfoy."

"That's because I am. You seem a bit more grown up too, Ms. Granger."

"I feel like I'm talking to someone I've never met before."

"I think we should pretend like that's the case." With a charming grin, he casually stood and stuck out his hand. "Hullo, I'm Draco Malfoy. What's your name?"

Raising a sceptical eyebrow, she replied. "Hermione Granger. Is this seat taken?" She asked, politely gesturing to the chair still sitting invitingly next to her hip.

"No, it isn't. Please, sit down."

"Thank you."

Now, Hermione Granger prided herself in being a sensible person. She fancied herself perennially pragmatic and perfectly practical, at all times. But sometimes—the current situation attesting to this—she enjoyed chucking caution into the rubbish bin and taking a leap of faith. Call it her Gryffindor courage, perchance. And though she was slightly wary of the strangely jovial man sitting across the table, she couldn't help but think that something good was to come of it.

The man, Draco Malfoy, leaned forward eagerly in his chair. "Let's get to know each other, yeah?"

"Yeah." She replied, taking a sip from her mug.

"Okay. Where did you go to school?" He folded his hands in front of him, giving her his full attention.

Surprised, she remarked, "I went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Have you ever heard of it?"

Draco Malfoy laughed heartily, as if making a huge discovery. "Heard of it? I'm an alumni myself! What year?"

"Class of '98."

"Blimey. You'd think I would have met you before. That's my class too!"

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, feeling certain that the two of them were going stark raving mad. "Well, I never! Cor! So, what are you reading?"

Malfoy glanced down and shrugged. "Oh, just The Daily Prophet. It's nothing special, I've got something much better to do now."

"Oh?" Hermione raised a playful eyebrow, then smacked herself mentally. Was she really flirting with Draco Malfoy?

The man raised a brow in return. "Yes. Talking to you."

She smiled slightly and looked down to hide her blush. "But you don't even know me." She proffered, her previous caution sliding away.

Malfoy smirked slightly and took a sip from his cup. "I don't like pretending I don't know you. Let's give that up and just decide to be friends."

"Well that makes it easier." She sighed, happy that her company decided to let slip the flustered colouring of her cheeks.

"I'll say." He smiled. "Now all that's left is getting to know each other. What's your favourite colour?"

Hermione's eyes widen a fraction, she was becoming more and more flustered by the second. "Oh no, I won't answer that one, you'll laugh at me."

Draco Malfoy leaned forward eagerly. "Alright, you've piqued my curiosity." His voice lowered to a dramatic whisper. "You leave me no choice, I'll have to…guess!"

Hermione laughed at his thespian antics. "Well, you'll never guess, so okay."

"Pink?" He asked immediately.

She hid her smile. He would never guess. "Nope."

He paused and scrutinised her appraisingly. "Red and gold? Art thou a Gryffindor through and through?"

A grin broke out. "Not even. Think bigger, wilder."

After a few moments, Draco smirked. "Slytherin green!"

Hermione began to stir her tea rapidly. "You know what? Let's pick a new game."

Malfoy let out a exuberant laugh, even going so far as to throw his head back in delight. "So that's right?! No way!"

"Yes way." She said resignedly. "Is and always has been."

"Even throughout your Hogwarts years?"

She mock glared at him. "I wouldn't change my favourite colour just because a ferret like you wore it, Malfoy."

"Hah!" He exclaimed, as if finding a hidden treasure in her comment. "So you're saying that your fancy of that colour was only heightened by your attraction to me?"

She scoffed good-naturedly. "Hah bloody hah. Hardly. I was a little put-off first year when I saw how that nasty Pansy Parkinson wore it, but I got over it pretty quickly. In fact, by third year I was back to…" She trailed off, realising her folly one sentence too late. "I shan't tell you that!"

If it were at all possible, Malfoy leaned forward even more. "No, you're blushing, you _have_ to tell me!"

When she shook her head, Malfoy began his best imitation of a pleading puppy dog and grabbed both of her hands.

After only a few seconds, Hermione pulled her hands away, not liking the warm sparks that shot up her arms with the contact. "By third year, I back to wearing dark green pajamas and underthings." She turned her head away, refusing to look him in the eye.

Malfoy snorted. "Whoa, vivid mental picture!" He said quietly.

"Oh you sick minded—!"

Malfoy held up his hands in defence, looking almost as horrified as Hermione was. "NO! Not that!"

"Then what?" Hermione deadpanned.

Draco blew air through his nose and smiled. "You, fourth year, wearing a Slytherin green dress to the Yule Ball. I would have been even more smitten back then."

Not catching the last part he said, Hermione sighed, caught up in a wave of memories. "Oh….I had forgotten about that night. Oh how stupid I was back then, huh?"

"Well if you were stupid back then, heaven help Ronald Weasley."

"Oh Ron." Hermione said with a pitying shake of the head and a small laugh.

A curious and stoic look settled on Draco's face. "Are you with the Weasel nowadays?"

"Oh, Merlin no." Hermione said quickly. At his raised eyebrow, she expounded. "He settled down with a nice muggle girl a while back. She does look a lot like me, though."

Malfoy smiled brightly. "But I bet she's not half as pretty as you. That lion's mane of a head of hair has really tamed down, hasn't it?"

"Draco Malfoy, was that compliment?!"

"Maybe…." He remarked, a boyish grin spread on his face that Hermione instantly found endearing. "But any road, I still remember how you looked that night."

Hermione's forehead scrunched. "What night?"

"The Yule ball you ninny!" Draco replied, patting her hand patronisingly. "I'm sure your dramatic entrance with a certain Viktor Krum is engrained in every boy's mind. Myself included."

Hermione snorted. "No doubt they were just realising that I actually a girl."

"Nah. I can recall wondering how someone so sodding smart could be pretty too."

A wistful look entered Hermione's eye. "If only Ronald has noticed. I fancied him back then, y'know." Hit with sudden epiphany, she exclaimed, "Imagine that! Ten years ago, I began to fancy Ronald Weasley."

Malfoy sat back, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. "Ten years. Wow. 3,650 days ago we were confused little fourth years, Granger."

She smiled. "3,650 days ago, I was dating Viktor Krum."

"Hah, and 3,650 days ago, I was blindly following in my father's footsteps." A slightly sour look entered his visage and Hermione rushed to wipe it away, strangely unfazed by the realisation that she liked his smile much more.

"And what have you done since you stepped out of those prints?" She asked, looking him sincerely in the eye. "It's been years. I bet the last time I talked to you was during our sixth year."

"Yes, and suddenly, we're friends. I quite like it actually." They share a smile, and her opinion on his smile is suddenly made concrete in her mind. _He has a nice smile,_ she mused.

The man with the nice smile took a sip of his drink. "Well, since my trial, probation and the death of my parents, I've been working in the International Affairs Corporation, the one independent of the Ministry." He looked ready to stop, but upon Hermione's encouraging nod, he continued. "It's a desk job that I absolutely loath, but in doing so, I help clear the Malfoy name, and that's all I could ask for really." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Probation? What did that entail?"

Draco sighed. "Two years without magic of any sort really, no contact with my "friends" and a paperwork filing job in the Auror Department. Spent twenty-four months scrounging my way around the bottom while watching the famous Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Was-Too-Stubborn-To-Die, work his way up to the top." Surprisingly, he didn't seem too bitter about the whole thing, Hermione was decidedly impressed.

After a moment of silence, Malfoy asked, "Has Potter become the Department Head yet?"

"Yes, him and Cedric Diggory's elder brother are partners. You remember Cedric, right?"

"The one who got fried by the Dark Lord back in fourth year? Yeah, I remember him." Hermione gave him a disapproving look but he ignored her and forged on, swirling his tea around his cup. "And you?" he continued. "What have you been up to?"

"Me? I teach at Beauxbaton's actually."

He seemed impressed. "What are you doing here in London then?"

"Summer break."

"Oh is July already? Boosh." He commented and threw back the remainder of his tea, afterwards setting it lightly on the table. "How's your French?" He smirked teasingly.

"Passable." She muttered.

He made a face. "How do you teach then?"

She smiled, feeling sassy. "You're a wizard Malfoy, didn't click that I could use a language charm?"

"You cheat?" He asked, seeming even more impressed.

She shrugged. "Well, at first I used the charm all the time, but now that I've been teaching for about nine months, I've picked up on a lot. I can go most everyday without it now, but when I get in a fix, I thank my innate skill in the use of nonverbal, wandless magic and apply it."

He raised her teacup. "How very sneaky of you. I approve." Lifting _her_ cup to his lips, he said, "This one's for you."

Slightly amused that he commandeered her drink, she gave him a mock glare. "Not sure how to feel about that one…"

"Take it as a compliment, like this one: Tu es très belle."

She grinned. "Vraiment? Merci." He inclined his head pensively.

"I didn't know you could speak french." She commented.

A roughish grin spread across his face, one side of his smile pulling higher than the other. "I can't. That's the only think I know how to say."

"Oh. Not so much a compliment, now is it?" She smiled at his confession.

He took another sip of her tea. "Don't worry, it still is. You're quite lovely I'd say, to tell you the truth."

Hermione was unable to hide her light blush.

He smiled softly at her reddening cheeks. "What subject by the way? Transfiguration, I suppose."

"You might expect. Potions actually."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hum. Something my 3,650 day younger self wouldn't have been able to fathom."

"Huh. Back when I fancied Ronald Weasley."

"Huh. Back when I fancied a certain Hermione Granger."

"Really?! No!"

"Really. Actually, it was more like the end of third year. That smack WAS pretty feisty, I've got to say." He let out a full bellied laugh.

"Oh." She covered her smiling mouth. "Oh-hoh. I didn't break anything, did I?"

He gave her a dramatic sigh. "Just my heart. When you went after Viktor Krum and actually got him."

"Well _you_ should have gone after me!"

He reclined in his chair with her teacup. "Yes, well, that was back when I was young, thick-headed, prejudiced and couldn't flirt to save my life."

"Oh, would you say you're proficient at flirting now?"

"Well, seeing as I am right now, yes."

"Oh you are? I couldn't tell!"

He gave her a smouldering smile. "Oh, I've softened you up enough for you to say 'yes' when I ask you out for coffee tomorrow after work. I know just the place too."

"Where?" Hermione leaned forward. "It's been forever since I've found a good pot."

"Easy." He scoffed. "Caffe Nero on Devonshire Street."

"Devonshire? But that's Muggle London!" Hermione exclaimed, bemused.

He looked slightly hurt and replied sarcastically. "Astute observation, Granger. You really are as bright as they say."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "But—"

"Oh come off it Granger!" He put her teacup down and leaned forward again. "I'm not as much of a dunderhead as I once was. Listen—I'm willing to bet the entirety of the Malfoy fortune on saying that in between your first day of first year and your first day of second year that you read hundreds of books about everything you could in the Wizarding World. Am I right?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "Of course I am. Any road, during my probation I was forced to think a lot about the things that my father and mother taught me as a child. I rather quickly came to the conclusion that it was all bunk.

"Now, I pride myself in being smart, so don't you dare to suggest that I would deprive myself of a learning experience just because I'm a prat." Hermione was just about to apologise when he waved her off casually.

"And so, when the Wizengamot set me free I set off to learn everything that I could about the Muggle World. I read books, I posed as a foreigner and took tours, I visited museums and hospitals and office buildings, bought a radio and a telly, a penthouse apartment in One Hyde Park and a **boatload** of Muggle art. I met new people and watched football. I took a trip to America and watched a baseball game. I bought Muggle clothes and I dated Muggle women. I opened a bank account and got a debit card. I rode the Metro around the city. I bought thousands of Muggle fiction literature books and during those two months where I was a Muggle "groupie", I fell in love with it. After being told all my life that Muggles were stupid, inferior, filthy creatures, it was a wonderful, beautiful surprise." He laughed slightly, then said. "And, after finding out that most of them were smarter than me, I had McGonagal help me write up a transcript and I'll be attending a uni this fall."

Hermione was silent for almost an entire minute, staring at him with a mix of shock and open adoration. "Where are you going to uni?" She rubbed her temple. "Gee, this is a lot to take it all at once."

"Cambridge. And I know." After a moment, he smirked. "Does it make you want to date me more?"

She laughed and responded unashamedly. "I have to say that it does."

"Great. After we're done here, I'll pick you up tomorrow evening at seven, alright? Dinner instead."

"Oh, alright."

He looked at her with a compilation of surprise, excitement and happy triumph.

He took another sip of her tea and she smiled genuinely back at him. "So have you already gone to a uni?" He asked.


End file.
